Tuesday, 20 February 2007

Bignor at Dawn: CA Tacey

Fringed with half-charred wood and silky ash

The fire had died and lay in silver wreath

While I, curled snugly in my blanket bed

Had dreamed beside the crooning Lethe

The sea’s cold breath, idly heaving on the tide,

At last swept inland in swift attack

And welty brushed my cheek and stirred the yew

That darkly spread its ragged skirts across my back,

Somewhere on the Down a sheepbell tolled

While, close at hand, like pebbles drop’t on glass,

A clam’rous blackbird raised his voice

And straightway plunged upon the dew-sheened grass,

Slinking thicket folk

Swished last-years leaves with padded grace,

Sinuous as the swathing mist,

Hunting and hunted in the primal way

Jewelling with blood dawn’s amethyst

I turned and let my lucid eyes ascend the ponderous hump that held the skies

And, even as I looked, from Bignor’s ancient crown

A flaming pennant streamed - and overhead

A seagull, whitely gliding to the fields,

Dipped and easterwardly careened.

No comments: